


And I meant everything I said that night

by KeepGoing



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Body Worship, Ever - Freeform, Gallavich Gift Giving Game 2020, Gift Exchange, Ian feels diffrently, Ian loves Mickey's body, M/M, Mickey doesnt think he deserves nice things, Mickey is still Mickey, Set in Season 3, Sleepover Fic, Smut, Song fic, we dont talk about the next day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27482734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: Set in Season 3 during the sleep over ep. Ian and Mickey finally have some real alone time and Ian isn't going to waste it. He's going to finally get to worship Mickey like he's been dying to.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 13
Kudos: 176





	And I meant everything I said that night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fandomfix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfix/gifts).



> This fic is part of the Gallavich Gift Giving Game 2020 on tumblr. Fandomfix asked for some body worship and this kinda got away from me with the sexy times. I hope you like it love!

_**You said if you don't let it out  
You're gonna let it eat you away   
I'd rather be a cannibal, baby   
Animals like me don't talk anyway** _

Mickey knows he isn't anything.

He isn't athletic; unless you count runnin from the fucking cops. He isn't smart; unless you count the number of times, he knew some dealer was trying to scam him by skimming grahams off the top. That ain't smart. That’s basic fucking math. He isn't strong; not in the manner that really means anything. He can hold his own in a fight but he ain't gonna be takin on Tyson anytime soon. And he's definitely not strong in the emotions department. He’s got a hard shell, but he breaks just like the next person. He don’t let anyone see that shit, but yeah, he feels shit like everyone else. Maybe even more. 

He knows he’s fucked for life. He knows he’s never getting out of Southside. He knows he will be under his father’s thumb for the rest of his life. He knows he will never be able to have what he really wants. Be who he really is. And even after all this time he isn't even sure who he really is. The only time he evenly slightly feels like himself is when... 

Mickey knows he isn't anything. 

But Ian makes him feel like he’s _something._

With the doe eyes and the small smiles and the way his hand curls around his when he spreads his body over Mickey’s back. The way he kisses the spot right behind his ear like Mickey is fragile and worth something. The way he cares; more than anyone has. More than anyone probably ever will. Ian is something. He’s gonna become something. Something Mickey never will. He’s gonna get out. He’s gonna give this town the big finger on his way out and leave Mickey in the rear view mirror. That’s one thing Mickey is sure of. But sometimes Mickey forgets. He forgets that they are on borrowed time, not just because his father is bound to find out sooner or later. He knows that eventually Ian will realize he’s just slummin it and he can do better than Mickey. So, Mickey holds onto the good shit; remembering the feeling of Ian’s lips behind his ear and how warm and strong his hands are wrapped around his fists. 

Because Mickey ain't ever gonna have anything better than that. 

He ain't gonna have anything better than Pizza Rolls and Segal movies in the saving grace of an empty house for once. He ain't gonna have anything better than the sideways looks Ian keeps giving him when he thinks Mickey isn't looking. He won't have anything better than Ian’s strong thigh against his; the pressure just right and promising something more later, when their clothes are off. He won't have anything better than Ian. He knows that. He isn't blind to the fact Ian is pretty fucking great. Yeah, he’s annoying as shit and never shuts the fuck up, but this kid makes him laugh. And he makes him feel. 

It's more than anyone has ever done.

_**Don't wanna call it a second chance  
But when I came back, it was more of a relapse   
Anticipation's on the other line   
An obsession called while you were out   
Yeah, it called while you were out** _

Ian finishes his beer and lets out a loud belch and set his empty bottle on the coffee table next to his socked feet. Mickey isn't sure when Ian took off his shoes, but he isn't sure how they even got here tonight. Mickey knows he invited him. He mostly did it so they could fuck in a bed, in an empty house, but Mickey knows that’s just a crock of bullshit because Ian is in a fucking group home right now and no one deserves that shit. Especially not Ian.

“Want another one?” 

Ian just shakes his head and stretches his arms out along the back of the couch. He isn't a smooth fucker. They both know it. But the thing about Ian is, he doesn’t care. And they don’t have to hide tonight. They don’t have to pretend and walk on eggshells. Ian is being his true self tonight. Glances and soft touches and loud sighs of contentment. All just Ian. His loud obnoxious laugh echoing through the house. His long legs taking up too much space on the couch and inside a part of Mickey he isn't sure he ever let Ian into yet. 

Ian is just so loud. In everything he does. 

Mickey shuts the TV off and rubs his palms along his dirty jeans. He knows what’s next. He knows what he wants to be next. But still, after all this time, he’s afraid to ask for what he wants. He isn't even sure what he wants, except for Ian to get on him. But the air is different tonight; they are different tonight. Mickey just can't pinpoint why. 

Ian is leaning his head back against the couch, eyes closed and this soft grin on his face. He’s half drunk and happy; Mickey knows that look. He gets that look a lot from Ian; like just being around Mickey makes Ian feel like that. Mickey knows that feeling, even if he doesn’t understand it. 

“You wanna-?” Mickey nods toward the hallway where his bedroom is and Ian raises his head and gives him a one-eyed squinted look. 

“I have some rules.” 

“Rules? The fuck you think this is, Gallagher? This is my house. You don’t get any fucking rules here.” 

Ian just shrugs and lays his head back again, eyes sliding closed. 

And that’s it. He doesn’t say anything more. And Mickey just stares; the anger boiling up from inside his chest. 

“So that’s it? I don’t get your cock, because I won't play by your rules?” 

“I’m not asking you to fuck a chick or put your cock in a vice or anything, Mick. There’s just somethings I want, and we never get any real time to just...” Ian waves his hand around like Mickey is just supposed to know what the fuck that means. 

“Don't ya think I know that?” Mickey thumbs his bottom lip and rolls his eyes, even though Ian can't see him. “What are these fucking rules?” 

Ian rolls his head to side and peeks at Mickey with one eye again. “You actually gonna listen?” 

“You think you’re in charge here, tough guy?” 

“Usually am when it's my dick in your ass.” 

Mickey scoffs and they continue their silent 3 eye stare off. He swallows and his body is betraying him. He’s curious. And Ian’s right. He’d never make Mickey do something he was comfortable with; he’s pushed boundaries before promising Mickey he’d like it and the fucker is always right. And Mickey knows he crossed one of the biggest boundaries they had just days ago in that van. A boundary; his own rule Mickey had made for himself; that totally shattered. 

“Tell me.” 

Ian finally opens both eyes and sits up, turning his large body toward Mickey. He immediately feels warmer. 

“I just wanna take my time. I’ve never seen you totally naked. I want to lay you out.” 

Mickey swallows; saliva and need already forming in his mouth at the thought of Ian having him that way. It’s not like Ian is asking for a lot. To a normal guy, it’d be nothing. But to Mickey...it's a lot. And Ian knows that. And in his own cocky 16-year-old way, he’s asking Mickey’s permission. 

And it means something. 

“Yeah, alright.” 

Ian smiles lights up the entire living room and he stands and the fucker extends his hand out for Mickey like he’s some girl but fuck if Mickey doesn’t let Ian wrap his longer fingers around his wrist. 

Mickey starts to remove his clothes as soon as he enters his room, but Ian grabs him by the wrists again and brings his arms down to his side. 

“The fuck?” Mickey tries to struggle but Ian just keeps his hands firm on his wrists and gives him that look. The look of ‘just trust me. I won't hurt you.’ Mickey finally stops struggling and Ian gives him one last tight squeeze before he ghosts his hands over Mickey’s sides, over his tank top. Ian usually isn't this gentle. They never have time to be. And Mickey gets it now. They have all night. They can have this. Even if just for tonight. 

Ian’s fingers shift underneath the shirt and Mickey gasps low at the feeling. Ian smirks and keeps his eyes locked on his. Ian pulls his tank up over his head, letting his fingers graze over his biceps and forearms before throwing it behind him on the floor. Mickey’s never had his shirt off before for him. He feels more exposed than he ever has. Mickey looks away; unable to keep Ian’s heavy gaze on him. But Ian’s finger under his chin, ever so gently, pulls his face back and his expression is so soft. Innocent. Happy. 

Ian’s hands are on his chest now; sliding his palms over his pecs and hard nipples. He swirls his fingertips around them and Mickey bites his lower lip to keep a low moan from escaping. It doesn’t work. He’s done it to himself before, but to have Ian touching them. Fuck. Ian leans down, taking one of them into his mouth and his tongue is soft and wet and hot and Mickey can't help but bring his hand up to the back of Ian’s neck to ground himself. Ian moans into his chest and slides his hand down Mickey’s side, squeezing his skin and Mickey immediately tenses, pushing Ian away. 

“What?” 

“Don't grab me like that.” 

Ian looks confused. “Why?” 

“Just don’t. I don’t...” Mickey looks away but Ian crowds him against the door. 

“You’re perfect.” 

“Shut the fuck up with that gay shit, man.” 

“I love your body. I love how your skin feels and I love the shape of you.” 

“Fuck you, Gallagher.” 

“I mean it.” Ian presses his clothed body against his. “You feel amazing. Please let me touch you.”

_I'll sleep in the hive  
I guess all the buzzing got to me   
While I'm still alive   
At night your body is a symphony   
And I'm conducting you_

It's all too much. It's too gay and it's too soft and he needs the roughness of Ian’s usually movements back. Mickey shakes his head but Ian presses his mouth, hot and heavy, against his neck. He pleads again in that voice that Mickey can't resist. He doesn’t say no again. He doesn’t say yes. But he uses his body to answer for him, when he brings his hands up to wrap around the back of Ian’s head. He scratches at the soft hairs there and Ian practically purrs into his neck.

“Mickey...” He whispers and maps out his neck and collar bone with his lips and teeth. Mickey’s breathing hard; fingers digging into the back of Ian’s head. He licks across his chest; ignoring his nipples this time around; and slowly brings himself to his knees and mouths hot kisses and licks across his stomach and sides. Mickey slams his hands against the wood of the door; his blunt fingernails digging into the cracked wood. 

Ian is licking above the waist band of his jeans and Mickey can feel the cold air hitting his wet skin with every new patch that Ian leaves behind. Ian’s hands come up to wrap around his jeaned thighs; digging his fingers into the soft flesh underneath. 

“I love these.” Ian murmurs between kisses. Mickey shakes his head against the door. “I do. Fucking hot. Thick and strong. I want to feel them wrapped around my head while I blow you.” 

Mickey’s knees buckle at Ian’s words but Ian keeps his firm grip on his thighs, keeping him from falling over. He slides his hands up slowly over the bulge in Mickey’s jeans and pops the button open and uses his teeth to get the zipper down. And Mickey is losing his fucking mind. 

His head is thrashing back and forth against the door and he can't figure out what to do with his hands and when his jean are finally pulled down along with his boxers, Ian picks each leg up so he can get them off his feet. He chucks them behind him, wherever Mickey’s shirt landed before, and immediately latches his mouth on the inside of Mickey’s left thigh. He bites and sucks red marks all along the inside; his head hitting Mickey’s throbbing cock with each movement of his mouth. Unable to hold onto any longer, Mickey reaches back for his anchor and wraps both hands around the back of Ian’s head. 

Ian moans and uses Mickey’s thighs as his own personal feast and Mickey knows he’s going to be covered in hickeys tomorrow and he’s always had a strict rule of no marks but he and Ian both know no one will see these. These will be just for Mickey to see. To touch and push on once Ian is gone. Mickey thinks, for just a second, he wishes he could find a way to make them stay. For when Ian is long gone; gone from this town and gone from Mickey; so, Mickey can remember he had this. Even if just for one night. 

Ian is running his hands up and down Mickey’s stomach and chest; pausing ever so often to pinch at his nipples and Mickey can't control the sounds coming from his mouth anymore. His bottom lip is bitten raw and he can taste the cooper on his tongue and he’s squeezing his hands around Ian’s head so tight, but Ian doesn’t complain once. He’s making his own sounds as he puts his mouth all over Mickey’s body. He keeps moving from one thigh to the other; up to his stomach and pelvic bone; to the indent of his chest between his pecs; his nipples and back down again. He looks up at Mickey; eyes glazed and dark and Mickey just pants above him, gripping the buzzed hair on the back of Ian’s neck. Mickey licks at the blood on his bottom lip and Ian just smiles up at him with this punch-drunk expression. 

“You will never know how sexy you are. How beautiful. Your eyes look so blue right now. I can’t stop looking at them. Ever.” 

“Fuck off.” Mickey wants the words to come out harsher than they do. More threatening. But they just come out as more of a whine and a whisper. He’s completely given up. There really isn't any point of fighting it anymore. This ginger fucker has gotten under his skin and there isn't one fucking thing he can do.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long. Dreamed about it. And it's exactly how I thought it would be.” Ian goes back to his assault on his skin; not leaving one-inch dry from his mouth. Mickey’s body is one fire and he’s seconds from cumming and Ian hasn’t even touched his cock except for occasionally accidentally brush of his arm or head. Ian finally pushes his face into the coarse dark hair above his cock and inhales. “Fuck, I love the way you smell.” 

And that does it. Mickey cums with a strangled gasp and he spurts against Ian’s cheek and when Ian finally realizes what’s happening, he sits back, just enough to watch as Mickey’s cock erupts the rest of his orgasm down over his cock and onto Ian’s shirt and some drops on the floor. That's never happened to Mickey before. He’s not some 12-year-old. That never even happened when he was. Ian looks up at him with wide eyes and Mickey can feel how flushed and red his face is. 

“That was the hottest fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.” Ian whispers, reaching out to grab a hold of Mickey’s softening cock and smearing his release over it with a few firm jerks. Mickey moans and his head bangs back against the door and his fingernails find their way back into the grooves he left before.

_**Put another 'x' on the calendar  
Summer's on it's deathbed** _

Ian stands and pulls Mickey to the bed and lays him down before shedding his own clothing, finally. He kneels over Mickey; cock in his large freckled hand as he strokes it right over Mickey’s now deflated cock. He runs his free hand over Mickey’s stomach and chest and just stares at him like Mickey is the only thing in the world he wants. And Mickey knows, in this moment, Ian thinks he is. For tonight, for this summer and maybe even through the next year, Ian will think Mickey is the only thing he will ever want. But Mickey knows the reality. He knows good things don’t happen in his world. He knows there is an ending here and there is nothing worse than knowing that. But Mickey doesn't have to think about that tonight. Or maybe even tomorrow or the day after when he’s pressing on the marks Ian has left on him. Physically and emotionally.

When Ian cums he’s silent but his mouth hangs open and his fingers dig deep into Mickey’s chest like he’s Ian’s anchor too in this world and Mickey slaps his own hand over his; intertwining their fingers as he watches how beautiful Ian looks in this moment. Ian gasps at the gesture; Mickey never reciprocates the hand thing Ian is obsessed with doing; but fuck it. This is just for tonight anyway. Tomorrow things will be different. One day closer to the end of this. 

Ian flops down next to him and curls his body around Mickey like some kind of Koala and Mickey’s head is screaming to push Ian off him. They are covered in cum and Mickey’s heart feels like it's about to beat out of his chest and it's too much. But then Ian presses his mouth to that spot behind his ear and Mickey’s control is lost, yet again. 

“Thank you.” Ian whispers. 

“The fuck for?” 

“Letting me do that.” 

“Didn't let you do fuck all.” Mickey sniffs and reaches over to the bedside table for his cigarettes. He lights one, taking a few drags before handing it over to Ian who rolls onto his back and away from Mickey and he instantly feels cold. 

“I meant everything I said.” Ian is blowing smoke rings out of his mouth and into the sex scented room. Mickey snatches the cigarette back from him but keeps his eyes on the ceiling. 

“Yeah. I know.” 

Ian rolls back onto his side and throws his arm around Mickey’s middle and right into the cum drying on his stomach. Fuck it, if Ian doesn't care, why should he? 

Mickey knows he isn't anything. 

But to Ian, he’s _something._

_**There is simply nothing worse than knowing how it ends  
And I meant everything I said that night   
I will come back to life   
But only for you** _


End file.
